Day 27069; Just Another Day.

    I remember VE Day after the war, or rather I remember the celebrations. I remember the chapel minister telling me it was not my sixth birthday but the 'celebration' of my birthday. Aren't adults pompous when they want to be! Falling off a three wheeled bicycle and breaking my arm; falling off the cricket pitch roller and breaking my arm; falling off a two wheeled bike and breaking my arm! Teacher Mr Jones shouting at me in lessons. and the teacher, was it Mr Jones coming into lessons and announcing Mr Ghandi had been killed. 

School trips to Eyam and Hansel and Gretel. In later years camping at Mundesley, a trip for 'the poor boys', courtesy of some charity or other. Playing in the river and canal; in the farmyards and on the railway line. Coming home from school and being told my mother had died; then I went out and did my paper round; no wonder I'm a bit of a fruit and nut' case!

    In the big wild world of work I remember frenetic days at F W Woolworth's and those lovely young Saturday girls. And less than frenetic days at British Celanese, stuck behind a desk adding up lists of Dicel and Tricel, as if I cared! Wet, windy duties on the yard as a teacher, also frenetic and frenetic too the years spent 'youth- leading'. Why did I so often choose jobs offering a less than peaceful existence! All in all years and years gone in a flash. Seldom regretted, not even the morning spent as a Betterware salesman on the outskirts of Ilkeston. (A morning was ample!)

    Marriage, one, children, two. Ups and downs, but far more ups than downs. Excruciating happiness and much love, more than one man deserves. And life goes on; the eyes dim and sometimes the memories fade. Many, many memories. (I honestly believe EVERYTHING we have experienced, however trite  is stored in the brain until death. Otherwise how do we recall memories that we have NOT thought about for so long, triggered and recalled in an instant.) 

    So what's significant about day number 27069, anybody hazard a guess. No, well it's my number of days on this earth. Of no significance to anyone except me, but its set me thinking. Mainly because of the days I can't rather than can remember.Very, very few 'diarists', not surprisingly, record EVERY day of their lives. Certainly not at my level. If I can recall hundreds, maybe thousands  of the days of my life, that leaves many, many more days that  were so mundane as to have vanished 'into the ether' so to speak. They are not necessarily wasted, it is just that we  'live' so to speak on special days. The majority of our time we 'exist', not necessarily in a bad way. My friends, I would like, with your help to conduct an experiment. Anyone why reads my blog is welcome to take part!

On a given day, in the near future I would like people  who choose to do so to tell me, in some detail, what you did, morning 'till night on the chosen day. I too of course will do likewise. Remember, this is NOT a special day. From what you ate to what you did. I know its nosey, but 'never mind eh!' I have readers from all over the world from all walks of life. I will print every reply as a blog a week or two after the invitation. I have readers from all walks of life, all ages, all parts of the world. ( A short profile will be needed.) More details , e.g. length to follow.) The only common denominator, being readers of Grumpy's Blog! Probably a mad thing to do, I've no idea who, if anyone will respond; it could be interesting!    

Nowt Teaches Better Than Experience.

    I was reading an article in the Times by a writer, Liam Marks concerning the ignominy of signing on at the so called Labour Exchange. I remember it well, a depressing, demeaning occupation. In my case its a long time ago plus I reckon as a 'youth' I was oblivious to the real world. Life is an 'experience', you only get one chance at it and its makes us 'what we are'. But this article brought back memories galore.

    I worked as a 'barbers boy' at nights and weekend prior to leaving school. Too quiet for a sixteen year old but happy days. I soaked the odd customer during shampoos and embarrassed customers when my sales of durex lacked discretion. My attempts at window dressing were abysmal and I destroyed the radio by knocking a cup of tea into it. (I'm left handed, do you think that's the problem.) It is not true I found bits of ear in the sweeping up!

    I worked for Betterware selling brushes etc from a suitcase of samples. Sales were delivered Fridays, commission six and eightpence in the pound. Only I never sold anything, first day on a wet Monday morning in Ilkeston. Not impressed, so I called in a pub, had a pint of shandy and went home minus the case.

    I was 'sent' by concerned relatives to seek work in various places. (I was orphaned at a young age.) I visited Rolls Royce offices (I am not cut out for manual work). A world renowned establishment full of proud workers who had spent their entire lives there; but I reckoned a boring place full of boring people. A safe, well paid job for life; whatever turns you on, but not for me!

    In turn I visited the Derby locomotive works and was introduced to another large office. Rows and rows of men seated at desks, ledgers to the fore, a silent array of conditioned unsmiling individuals, though individuals in name only.  I had even at that age literary leanings and thus recognised the Dickensian connections. Did they each have a quill or a pen, I can't remember. Forty years of gloom beckoned and I fled once again.

     Not keen on other peoples ideas (One uncle tried to get me enrolled as an apprentice jockey, me, a lad who has never ridden and no love of horses) I got myself an appointment with a firm, so I thought connected with the art world. They were something to do with posters and I had a GCE in art. Only it turned out that their arty connection with the art world was that that they put up posters on billboards around the town!

    Being less than brilliant at job finding myself I allowed the local 'job centre for juniors' to send me for an interview with F W Woolworths. I suppose I was desperate to work and being out of work was unfashionable in those days. So I 'signed on' and in fact worked for them for just over two years. This is not the place to go into detail, (see post dated 10th March 2009 ) until an altercation on my motorbike with a lorry, March 10th, 8 25am, 1959 curtailed my Woolworth career; I remember it well!

    Six months later, unable to return to Woolworths I obtained a job with a Jewish tailors as a trainee window dresser. We, me and 'the main man' travelled around in an Atlas van, dressing one window a day . They were 'teddy boy' shops in far from salubrious places; Clay Cross, Arkwright Street and Radford Road Nottingham amongst others. I remember fetching leaves from the Forest area of Nottingham for an autumn display and little else. It was never going to be a job for life but I was still surprised to be 'sacked' the week before Christmas. You weren't 'made redundant' in those days, merely got rid of, no redundancy money, nothing. Miserable lot, it put me off Jews for ages. I remember thinking, 'Don't Jews celebrate Christmas!'

    Mind you, I had the last laugh. I bought a Crombie type coat, a silk scarf, a striped shirt, corduroy  trousers and posh brogue shoes, all at staff discount prices! They all cost me every penny I had but it was worth it!

    Which all brings me back to Labour Exchanges. Because for the first time in my life I 'signed on'. And I was definitely the best dressed man, nay boy in the 'dole queue. Mind you, being unemployed is no fun and two weeks later I started work as a most insignificant office clerk in a British Celanese factory. But that's another story!
Most of the above covered in more detail in the ebook, 'A Childhood Revisited' hopefully out soon. By the way, I was fully dressed at all the interviews I attended!

Mad, Had, Bad, Sad, Glad.

Most of us lead unimportant little lives. We are inconsequential in the big world. There are fifty nine million plus of us in Great Britain alone, mind bending. Many with similar hopes, aspirations, fears. It's been a funny week, not necessarily funny 'ha ha', a week that's made me realise how easily our moods go up and down. Unimportant we may be, but we cannot hide from life and all it throws at us.

Tuesday morning and a nondescript envelope dropped through the letter box.

'Notice of Intended Prosecution' 47mph in a 40mph area near Chesterfield last week. News to me, not an area I know well, must have been done by the static vans they use. Bit sneaky, no danger, broad daylight, nice little earner, no excuse, I know, the laws the law but not happy. I'm MAD, SAD and feel I've been HAD.

I'm no longer a 'boy racer', hopefully normally a law abiding citizen. In over fifty years driving whats my record? A 'Without Due Care and Attention' in Croydon.' The policeman who booked me suggested ' We get lots of accidents at this spot.' Not 'Bad spot so the councils looking into it.' Speeding near Ilkeston. Camera near a school so did its job, except that the road was deserted, being a Saturday afternoon. When the camera flashed, my wife said, 'Look its lightening.' I knew better!

Again over the limit, this time in my home town, on a road I was convinced was a 40mph, not a 30mph limit. At ten thirty at night, the road again deserted. Plus an adjoining, similar road has a forty limit. I know from talking to other motorists the first road is a massive earner for government funds. Parking offence in Chesterfield many years ago ( I sent a letter with a quote by Martin Luther 'To do so no more is the truest repentance.' My fine was half the normal!) Plus a parking ticket in Wales issued by a pair of megalomaniacs I don't even wish to talk about! The whinges of an old man, perhaps. The overall effect is to make me less supportive of the law and its idiosyncrasies.

The same day a delightful lady, Veronica called from Barking Mad. We were interviewed as to our suitability as 'dog sitters'. Evidently we passed the 'tests' and await an introductory 'lodger'. I have never seen my wife so excited since . . . . On second thoughts we won't go into that! The mood lightened, speeding ticket or no speeding ticket for which I was GLAD. Until I went to Mansfield next day.

My motorhome has had a heater problem for some time. I have to take it to a specialist dealership in Mansfield. Pleasant day in the town, spoilt a little by being dropped off a mile from where we should have been due to terrible instructions from Mansfield public and bus fraternity. The pain in my knees compounded by a bill for nearly £350 to repair damage to the heater. The damage almost certainly caused either by a trip up the the rutted hard shoulder of the M25 or the pot holed roads around Derby, that's BAD. The mood at rock bottom again, MAD that we pay taxes for roads that are ill maintained, SAD at parting with hard earned cash.

Two phone calls changed the mood again. A phone call to a cousin brings good news, not BAD. A long awaited serious hospital examination has revealed her problem, although serious, is far less serious than at first thought. What we haven't got rather than what we have got is often the important factor where illness is involved. Whatever the brave face, worry and uncertainty is inevitable. And make no mistake, good health is first and foremost the most important factor in life. So I was so GLAD for her and hers, speeding tickets, motorhomes and cash shortages are so unimportant compared to health issues.

A second phone call brings further joy, For which my wife has reason to be GLAD. Barking Mad has a problem, someone is needed to 'house' a dog for the weekend. Who would be available for such an emergency; who else? So, as I write, the house is being 'valeted', even more thoroughly than for the visit of mother-in-law! The imminent arrival of Tilly awaits; Tilly is evidently a 'Cockapoo. (Don't ask!) I am GLAD we have a visitor for the weekend

All somewhat unimportant. But it does suggest that our lives and moods are subject to never ending, ever present circumstances and events until the day we die. I suggest we enjoy the moment, live for the day, for you never know what tomorrow, next week, next year may bring.

What's been the best and worst for you in the last seven days?

Grumpy's Alternative News June

It's been a right old time for bodies. Not long ago a couple were distributing body parts all over the country in a bid to avoid detection of a murder. Recently a body was discovered in a green wheelie bin. It had apparently been there for three weeks with a foot sticking out of the top. The dustbin men (sorry refuse collectors) said they don't empty bins unless the bin is on the pavement. This one apparently was still on the driveway That's all right then!

And blow me, another leg has turned up on farmland in Hertfordshire. (No, not connected to the other two cases, silly. Unless the first case was Jake the Peg.) The police reported this last leg was thought to be 'from a white or Asian male'. Only one or the other, how strange. As a matter of interest, I wonder how difficult it is to identify a single leg as male or female. It would certainly not have been easy had it belonged to some of my female acquaintances in my younger days!

Our police are on the whole pretty good but even they have their moments. The new Met Police Commissioner joined his men in a pre-dawn, high publicity raid to arrest a gang of burglars. The press were there, eighty police including riot squad officers, taser stun guns, helicopter, the lot. Only when they broke into a house, it was empty. Their suspect was already in custody and no one had informed the Commissioner. Oh well, you can't win them all!

Mind you, our police are often superior to their New York counterparts. A man lay dead inside a van for weeks as parking tickets piled up on the windscreen. So much for tinted windows. Of any case the New York police have a policy of not searching parked vehicles.

A little sideline. The suspect in the 'bin body' was arrested in Malta. Evidently Portsmouth has been dubbed 'the new Malta' in a Southern Rail poster campaign. A bit tongue in cheek, Boris Johnson described Portsmouth as 'one of the most depressing towns in southern England.' Perhaps why our suspect went to the real place instead of Portsmouth.

Luckiest couple of the month were the pair who won £25 million on the EuroMillion lottery. He, the husband says he's going to use part of the money to get professional advice as to how to grow better carrots on his allotment.

Unluckiest was the Israeli women whose children threw away her old mattress and replaced it with a new one. The old mattress contained her life savings, nearly one million US dollars. They are still searching local landfill sites.

Even more unlucky was the tourist killed by a shark in the Red Sea. Bad publicity for the tourist industry. I suspect the environment official had this in mind when he tried to minimise the seriousness of the situation. 'This very rarely happens. It seems the victim aggravated the shark or presented it with food.' Well done, sir, that certainly helps!

Saddest individual of the month was perhaps the arts therapist who swore at patients, smoked cannabis, fell asleep during sessions and suggested that patients take advantage of 'unlimited sex'. Not surprisingly he was struck off as these were only some of his misdemeanours.

Equally foolish was the vicar who sent salacious text messages to a teenage girl. Evidently he was under strain. I wonder if being sacked makes it worse. But the saddest for me was the Mafia boss who burst into tears in front of the parole board saying 'I'm really depressed and I can't take prison any more.' All together now, all say 'aaah'. A Mafia boss, I ask you. He has now been transferred to house arrest.

So there you have it. A mite bit depressing but nothing political. I leave you with two more snippets. A new NHS unit in Ilkeston, Derbyshire is playing Beatles music to help dementia patients. What would be your choice? Finally, it has been revealed one in three organ recipients believe he or she takes on some aspect of the personality of the donor. Some report strong psychological connections. With this in mind whose bits would you like. And please keep it clean!